She looked at me with a calculating little girl grin. “If I can have a cupcake for breakfast, I’m totally cool.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You get one cupcake. If I find out you snuck two, you can kiss that pink bedroom goodbye.” I turned back to Erin and stressed, “She gets one cupcake.”
Erin turned to Eliza and I heard in a conspiratorial tone as I headed around the counter, “We’ll just have to make sure to give you one big cupcake, huh?”
Eliza giggled and I caught myself smiling even as I rolled my eyes and pushed through the door into the kitchen, ignoring the curious stares as I made my way up to Chloe.
As I slipped the key into the lock, my chest squeezed. It wasn’t that same, enjoyable feeling from the night before. It was something uncomfortable and unsettling. “Chloe?” I called as I pushed the front door opened and stepped across the threshold. “You here, sunshine?” No answer. I made my way farther into her place, my gut twisting at her lack of response. The apartment was open so I was able to see the sheet of her unmade bed, a mangled mess, half on, half off the mattress.
“Shit,” I muttered, that twisting in my gut growing exponentially, panic setting in. “Chloe. Where the hell are you?”
A moan sounded through the apartment, behind the only door in the entire apartment. Rushing in that direction, I shoved the door open and froze in place at the unsuspecting sight of Chloe curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor near the toilet.
“I threw up,” she slurred in a small voice.
“Oh, baby,” I said quietly as I fell down to my knees beside her. The rush of relief coursing through my blood at the realization she was okay warred with a concern I’d never felt for anyone but Eliza before. “I can see that.” Reaching up, I flushed the toilet and guided Chloe to sitting. Her skin was still uncomfortably hot to the touch as I brushed her matted hair from her damp forehead. “We need to get you up, sunshine. I need to get you to the hospital.”
“No.” She batted at my hands weakly. “No hospital. I’ll be fine.”
Despite the ticking in my jaw at her stubborn behavior, I somehow managed to speak in a calm voice. “Chloe, you have vomit in your hair and you’re still running a fever. This isn’t a goddamned head cold.”
“No hospital,” she continued to argue. “They smell funny.”
Somehow, by the grace of God, I managed to refrain from commenting that they couldn’t smell any worse than she did right at that moment. As I helped her off the floor I came up with another idea, because despite the fact I couldn’t seem to get my head straight where this woman was concerned, I knew there was no way in hell I’d be able to leave her apartment knowing the condition she was in. “Fine, no hospital. But your only other option is to come home with me. Either way, you’re leaving here, whether I have to throw you over my shoulder or not.”
“Derrick,” she sighed.
“Chloe,” I growled in a warning tone. Then, miraculously, the fight washed out of her. “Fine. But I need a shower. I can smell myself.”
“You need help or you think you can do it yourself?”
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, seeing as she was running a fever and, from the looks of it, had just thrown up the entire contents of her stomach, but she still managed to shoot me a killing look as she answered, “I can do it. Go away.”
I failed at masking my chuckle as she gave my chest a pathetic shove. “Fine. I’m gonna run down and tell Eliza what’s going on. I’ll only be a second. You sure you’re all right by yourself?”
“Yes. Just need to get clean.” Then she slammed the bathroom door in my face.
* * *
Chloe
The shower had helped, but hardly. My head felt like it was about to fall off my shoulders, and my entire body felt like I was moving through cement. That, coupled with the body-wracking chills and pain radiating throughout my entire body made me less than happy as I pulled the bathroom door open and came to a halt at the sight of Derrick rummaging through my underwear drawer. To be fair, I’d always been a horrible patient when I was sick.
“What the hell are you doing, perv? Stop touching my underwear!”
“Relax, crazy,” he responded, turning from my drawer to a bag he must have found in my closet, and tossing the clothes inside. “I’m packing you a bag so you have everything you need at my place…” he trailed off as his eyes came up and landed on me. “Fuck me,” he groaned in a pained voice as his gaze raked up and down my towel-clad body. I tried to tell myself that the goosebumps were from the fever and not his penetrating stare, but God knew I was lying.
“Uh…” he stumbled before grabbing something off the bed and extending it my way. “You should get dressed,” he waved the yoga pants and t-shirt at me. “You don’t want to get any sicker.”
I took the clothes from his hand and made my way back into the bathroom. Once I finished dressing and tying my damp hair in a knot at the top of my head, my energy was tapped out. Dropping down onto the closed toilet seat, I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to stop the spinning in my head and the rolling in my stomach. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d ever felt so sick.
There was a faint knock on the bathroom door, followed by Derrick’s low, enticing voice. “Sunshine?”
“Hmm?” I hummed, keeping my eyes closed as the door creaked open. It wasn’t until I felt the rough pads of his fingers skimming from my temple to my jaw that I opened them and met his warm hazel eyes, filled with so much concern.
“Let’s get you out of here so you can rest, sweetheart.”
All I could do was nod, so I didn’t have it in me to protest when he scooped me up into his arms and carried me from the bathroom. “My purse,” I said… or at least I think I did. My mouth moved, but I wasn’t sure if I was actually forming words or not.
“I got it, sweetheart,” his chest rumbled against my cheek as he spoke. “I have everything you need. Just relax and let me take care of you.”
As my eyelids fluttered shut and I snuggled into the heat of his chest, the last thought I had before my body fell into sleep was: It was nice to finally have someone to take the burden off my shoulders for once.
* * *
I had no clue how long I was out. I didn’t recall anything after Derrick lifted me off the toilet seat and carried me through my apartment. I opened my eyes to the sound of voices and had to blink some of the fog away. The bed I was in was huge, the mattress plush and felt like a cloud. Definitely not my own. Not that my mattress was anything to sneeze at, but it didn’t hug my body, that was for damn sure.
“You sure there’s nothing else you can do for her?” Derrick’s voice. Then I remembered Derrick’s ultimatum, either go home with him so he could take care of me, or go to the hospital.
“She’s gonna be just fine, son.” I finally got my bearings enough to notice Derrick and Dr. White standing a few feet away from me. I’d known Dr. White my whole life. He was the town doctor and, in a town as small as Pembrooke, made house calls on a regular basis. His name was fitting, considering the shock of white hair on his head and the full-on Santa beard he sported. He had a gentle, friendly demeanor and everyone in town loved him, even the small kids who were afraid of needles but forced to go in for their annual vaccinations. You couldn’t look at the man who was a cross between St. Nick and Colonel Sanders and not love him.
“Give her the Tamiflu when she wakes up, Tylenol for the fever, and keep her hydrated. She’ll be back to her normal self in no time.”
I blinked my eyes as Derrick’s chest rose and fell with a large sigh, almost as if he was relieved to hear what Dr. White was saying. Then, “Thank Christ for that. Woman’s stubborn as hell when she’s sick. I lost count of how many times I wanted to wring her neck.”
Now I know I heard that right. “Uh, laying right here, you know,” I grumbled. “I can hear you.”
Dr. White laughed. “You act like he’s lying. Known you all your life, Chloe. A ray of sunshine on most days, but when you’re sic
k, you’re a downright pain in the ass, girl. Horrible patient.”
“Thanks,” I deadpanned, or at least tried my best, seeing as I still felt like crap and had trouble concentrating on much else. I pushed myself up to sitting and rested my back against the headboard.
“Try not to give Deputy Anderson too hard of a time, Chloe,” the doctor told me, earning himself a scowl. “I know you’re in a hurry to get better, so rest and meds. Don’t overdo it, or I’ll stick you in the hospital just for fun.”
He wasn’t joking, either. Sure, Dr. White was sweet, but if a patient didn’t take their wellbeing seriously, they got to see a whole new side of the old man. A side I wasn’t too keen to see, so I gave him a muttered, “Yes, sir.”
“Tamiflu twice a day for five days, with food. You can quit the Tylenol as soon as your fever breaks and stays down. Water and sleep. I’ll be checking on your progress with Deputy Anderson since I know you well enough not to trust you as far as I can throw you.”
“I can feel the love from here,” I frowned. “Stop, it’s too much. You’ll make me cry.”
Dr. White laughed again and turned for the door, Derrick following behind. “I see what you’re saying about being a horrible patient,” he said in a not-so-quiet voice.
“Can still here you!”
“Didn’t say it quietly, sunshine,” he shot over his shoulder as he walked the doctor out. Once alone, I let my eyes scan my surroundings. I’d never been to Derrick’s house before, and what I saw definitely wasn’t what I would imagine for a single guy living alone, child or not. The walls were painted the softest dove gray to contrast the dark navy bedding on the king-sized bed. The bed frame, dresser, and nightstands were all made of a dark, rich cherry wood, almost the same color as the wood flooring. And he had a massive cream-colored area rug — an area rug, for crying out loud — that stretched from under the bed, all the way across the room, stopping just feet from the stone hearth of the fire place.
The room was impeccably decorated, and I thought to myself, if this was what the guest room looked like, I couldn’t imagine just how amazing the master bedroom was. But none of those details — stone fireplace included — were the most stunning feature. That went to the view beyond the glass French doors on the far left wall, beyond the cozy little deck built off what looked to be the side of the house. Nothing but forest and mountains as far as you could see.
It was absolutely breathtaking.
Derrick’s view was what people all over the country traveled to our tiny mountain town to see. You couldn’t look at a view like that, all lush and green, and not be moved by it. It was tranquil, peaceful, nature at its most beautiful, and I instantly fell in love with it.
“I brought you some toast, sunshine” Derrick said, pulling me from the amazing sight beyond the French doors. “Doc said you had to take the meds with food, so—”
“Derrick… the view,” I sighed dreamily.
“Yeah,” he smiled, his eyes following mine out the doors. “No such thing as a bad morning when you wake up every day to that.”
Wait… “This is your room?”
The mattress dipped under his weight as he sat on the bed, his back to the fireplace so he was facing me. “Yep,” he answered, sitting the plate of toast on my lap and reaching up to press his palm to my forehead. He held it there for longer than necessary to gauge a person’s temp before those rough fingertips skated down, down, down, past my temple all the way to my collar bone. It was the type of touch you expected to feel from someone who wasn’t simply a friend. “Only two other rooms in this place. One’s Eliza’s, and the other’s an office, slash gym, slash storage room. Didn’t think you’d appreciate sleeping on the futon in there.”
“But… but…” I sputtered. “Where are you sleeping?”
“On the couch.”
“Derrick!” I cried. “You can’t sleep on the couch. Don’t know if it’s lost on you, but you’re not exactly a small guy. I’m tiny! Like, really tiny. I’ll take the couch and you take your huge bed back.”
Derrick’s laughter shook the bed in a way I had no doubt I’d have thoroughly enjoyed had I not felt like I’d been run over by an eighteen wheeler. “To put your mind at ease, no, it’s not lost on me that I’m not a small guy. Which is why I bought myself a massive sectional I knew I’d be comfortable sleeping on, seeing as I have a tendency to pass out on the couch watching TV more often than not.”
Okay, so that was a valid argument. But still!
“But still,” I continued to argue, “I don’t feel right taking your bed.”
“Did I or did I not tell you to relax and let me take care of you?” he asked in a tone that brooked no argument, while at the same time, something I couldn’t quite read flashed in his hazel eyes. “Seeing you lying on your bathroom floor is something I never want to have to witness again.” The way he said that caused chills to snake along my spine.
“So you’re staying here, you’re taking the bed, you’re eating the damned toast so you can take your pills, and you’re done arguing, got it?”
“Got it,” I replied instantly. My momma didn’t raise a door mat, but she taught me one very important lesson growing up. Pick your battles. And from the determination painted across Derrick’s face as he all but growled his words, this wasn’t a battle I needed to win. So I picked up the toast and began to chew slowly, hoping my stomach would cooperate. All the while trying not to analyze the way that Derrick was staring at me, almost like he didn’t recognize me.
Shit, I needed that Tamiflu to kick in fast so I could get back to my regularly-scheduled programming. The longer I stayed in Derrick’s house, surrounded by all things him, the harder it was going to be to go back to being his friend.
15
Chloe
Chills that wracked my body woke me from a fitful sleep. My eyes opened to the dark room, only lit by the moonlight pouring in through the glass doors. The view I’d appreciated so much just hours ago was the furthest thing from my mind as the fever I thought I’d broken earlier came back with a vengeance.
With a groan, I pushed up and shuffled across the bed in an attempt to reach the bottle of Tylenol on the nightstand. My hand landed on the cold wood at the same time my head fell back down to the pillow. It felt like my own body was fighting against me, too weak to do something as simple as hold my own damned head up.
I smacked my palm against the top of the nightstand as I blindly searched for the pill bottle, letting out another pained groan as my fingertips hit the plastic, sending it skittering to the ground.
“Damn it,” I cursed, trying to will my limbs to actually cooperate. I really was a shit patient. I had already managed to convince myself I was knocking on death’s door, throwing myself a pathetic pity party as I did a mental calculation of how I’d divvy up all my belongings between my loved ones. I’d just decided to hell with it when the bedroom door came swinging open.
“Sunshine?” Derrick’s deep, sleep-gruff voice broke through the silence of the room. “You okay?” I let out another groan and felt the bed dip under his weight seconds before his hand rested on my forehead. “Shit, you’re burning up.”
He fumbled around near the nightstand for a moment before soft yellow light filled the space. I was hit right then by the sight of a chiseled, shirtless Derrick, wearing nothing but a loose fitting pair of sleep pants that sat low on his waist. The sight would have overwhelmed all of my senses had I not been delirious with fever. From the rattling sound, he’d located the Tylenol bottle on the floor and popped it open. He shook two capsules out, snagged the glass of water and leaned over me. “Open up. You need to take this to break the fever.”
I didn’t bother arguing. My lips parted far enough for him to dump the meds into my mouth, and, with his now-free hand, he cupped the back of my neck and lifted me up high enough to bring the water glass to my lips. I sucked it back and let out a sigh as he lowered me back to the pillow.
“When I die,” I started on a whine, �
��my recipe book for all my pastries is in a box on my closet shelf.”
“Sweetheart, you aren’t dying.” I could hear the smile in his voice, but I’d already squeezed my eyes closed.
“Don’t argue. This is important,” I said as my body trembled against the chills of my fever.
“All right,” he said, his voice telling me he was simply humoring me, despite me being completely irrational. It was amazing how, even on my deathbed, I was able to read all of that from just those two words.
“When I die,” I repeated for dramatic effect — like I said, I was a horrible patient, so sue me, “whatever you do, don’t let Harlow get ahold of those recipes. She’s a terrible cook. It would be sacrilegious.”
The mattress shook with his laughter. “I’ve heard stories.”
“Unless you’ve been forced to live through it, you can’t possibly understand.”
“Ethan and Noah told me all about Thanksgiving. I have a good idea,” he muttered, bringing up a night that still gave me nightmares. How one person could not only screw up, but desecrate, food in such a way, was beyond me.
“I still wake up screaming sometimes,” I whispered, shivering at the memory.
The light in the room was extinguished and, just as I thought Derrick was going to stand to leave, he surprised me by sliding down the bed, his body warm against mine as he wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me into him.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re shaking,” was all he said in response as he whipped the covers over us.
“So you’re… cuddling me?” I asked incredulously.
“I’m keeping you warm.” His soft words whispered across the skin of my neck, eliciting another tremble for a totally different reason. Judging by the way Derrick’s arm tightened around me, he felt it and thought it was another fever chill. If only he knew.
Welcome to Pembrooke: the complete Pembrooke series Page 11
